The Myth of the Dagnir
by fiducia
Summary: We were foolish enough to think we could just waltz into another world and take their Scythe. Little did we know that complications, like Elves, war and the One Ring, would make our mission a life altering experience. BtVS & LotR Crossover
1. The Best Laid Plans

Summary: We were foolish enough to think we could just waltz into another world and take their Scythe. Little did we know that complications, like Elves, war and the One Ring, would make our mission a life altering experience.

Chapter 1 – The Best Laid Plans

The plan had sounded simple enough while sitting around the table in our cramped RV.

I had been with Slayers for roughly six months when Giles and Willow came across strong magical indications that another Scythe existed in a distant dimension. All the Slayers traveling with us at the time were surprised and we were self-centered enough to think that the existence of Slayers was unique only to our world.

At first Buffy had wanted to go personally to retrieve the weapon but Willow overrode her suggesting that I be the one to go. Willow said she would go with me to make sure the mission went off well. Her suggestion was met with a mixed response and eventually dissolved into an argument between Buffy and Willow. I was rather new, but Willow stuck to her guns. She was confident that I was the one meant to go. Said she saw it in a vision while meditating on the astral plane or something like that. After the blow up between the "Head Slayer" and the witch, no one questioned Willow's choice, least of all me.

Willow had changed a lot since she had harnessed the power of the Scythe and made all the Potentials full blown Slayers. After I had joined the group and began my training we had become friends. I knew about her being gay, but it didn't bother me at all. One of my foster sisters had been a lesbian so in an odd way she reminded me of the only home I had ever known.

I had never met my parents but was lucky enough to be adopted by a wonderful family while I was still an infant. I grew up thinking that the people who cared for me were my parents, and in every way that counted they were. When I was in Middle School they felt that I was old enough to understand and told me that while they both loved me very much and would always be my parents, they hadn't given birth to me. It was a difficult thing to wrap my mind around but eventually I came to understand the situation. More and more information was revealed to me the older I got so by the time I came into my power as a Slayer I had found my biological mother and was exchanging letters with her about once a month. I still hadn't found my biological father, though.

About six months after I woke up one day and broke my alarm clock in half with my newfound Slayer strength, I met Faith. They were traveling the country looking for the new Slayers and asking if these girls wanted to join them and train to fight the things that go bump in the night. I agreed. By that time I lived on my own, hated my job and had been attacked by vampires enough times to know that just being strong and quick wasn't enough. I needed to learn to fight. The rest is history.

Six months after meeting Faith and signing up, Willow and I were crouched around the RV's table plotting how we would go about retrieving the Scythe. The spell Willow would use to propel our corporeal bodies into the new dimension would hopefully put us near to where the Scythe rested. The conditions of the dimension were unknown to us, but she was at least able to tell that it had enough of an oxygen atmosphere to support our breathing.

At least we weren't expected to breathe Methane. Again, we were self-centered enough to think that we could just waltz into this other world and take something like that without complications.

Complications arose immediately when we materialized in the lush landscape of the dimension as we were attacked by a horde of smelly demons, clad in armor, spattered in white face paint shaped like hands and wielding odd shaped swords.

Great.

I struggled to fend them off, my short sword clanged off of their crude weapons and armor, but the truth of the matter was obvious. There were just too many of them. They already had captives. I could see them, hanging from the necks of two demons piggy back style. Two young boys, their hands bound around the necks of their captors stared at us with wide, fear filled eyes as we fought.

What would demons want with young boys?

The question nagged at me, but I couldn't give it much attention. For every demon I managed to wound two more stepped up to take its place. Willow fired off as many combat spells as she could think of but I could tell she was struggling. Whether it was due to fatigue from her magical exertion to get us here, or if magic just didn't work the same in this dimension, I couldn't tell. Again, not much time to analyze the situation. I had problems of my own.

I was dealing with my own vertigo from the magical trip so while I fended for myself alright, I wasn't at my best, even by my own high standards. It became clear that the demons, once they realized that we were outnumbered, were toying with us. I was quickly getting tired and frustrated as they danced in and out of my swords reach taunting me in guttural voices. They knew English, which surprised me; all the demons I had met and fought didn't like to speak English unless they had to.

I yelled at them to stand still and fight, but my words were met with barks of inhuman laughter.

So I'm a comedienne am I?

The vertigo lifted for a brief moment and the sudden clarity gave me the opening I was looking for. With the unnatural speed of a Slayer I feinted left, dodged right and swung my sword. A demon larger than the others and clad in more elaborate armor, fell victim to my onslaught; his head left his shoulders cleanly, the headless body hesitating as if confused, before slumping to the ground in a heap, the head flying off into the forest to my left.

Everything stopped as the demons looked in disbelief at what I had done. They looked at me, a mere slip of a woman with long brown hair and strange clothes, carrying a sword, and then to their fallen comrade, and then back at me.

Breathing hard from my unexpected exercise I moved to lunge at another demon but the harsh voice of one of them rose in the silence.

"HURRY! They are coming! Take that one, kill the other!"

The words seemed to break the other demons out of their stupor. They roared in answer to the command and swarmed us anew. I heard Willow scream as one of the demons picked her up in a fireman's carry and started to run with her. My booted feet bit into the dirt as I tried to run after her but something large and hard collided with the right side of my head, and the world went black.

I thought I heard Willow screaming for me as the demons carried her off, but I couldn't be sure.

"Kestrel! Kestrel!"

Maybe it was a dream. That's it. I'm dreaming. I'm home, in my bed and all of this is a dream. I'm still just a girl, okay more like just a woman, with an ordinary life, a family who loves her and a job she hates. I never became a Slayer when the power of the Scythe was harnessed. I never met Buffy, Giles, and Willow, Andrew, Xander or any of the others. I don't know what it feels like to have a vampire dust under the stake you've just driven through its undead chest. I've never had green demon blood staining my clothes. This is a dream…

I lost time. I have no idea how long I was out, laying on the cold, grass covered earth, surrounded by sparse trees, the wound on my head bleeding into the dirt.

I never heard other foot steps approaching, never heard them speak with urgency to each other as they took in the signs of struggle etched into the land, the headless body on the ground and finally my own slumped form, short sword still caught in my right hand and covered in the dark, viscous blood of my fallen enemy.

I felt someone touching my neck, looking for the pulse of life, but I wasn't sure if I was feeling it in truth or if that too was part of my dream. The touch moved to examine the wound on my head and from the pain I felt there I was certain I was not dreaming. This was still real. I was still a Slayer. My name was still Kestrel. Willow was still taken, along with those two boys.

I groaned and turned my head away from the touch, gentle through it was, and the hurried movement made my head throb. My hand released the sword and rose to try to fend off the cause of my pain, but another gentle touch stilled its weak protest and a voice murmured words of comfort and patience.

"Be at peace, Lady. I must see to your injury." The voice was low and soothing, yet gravely. I groaned again, voicing my displeasure in the only way I was able. I couldn't open my eyes. They felt heavy and glued shut. The gentle touch combed through my hair, now sticky with my own blood, untangling it from around the wound on my scalp. I winced as the hair pulled away from the open gash. Some of the blood had dried and it was painful when tugged away.

A lighter tenor voice broke through the haze of my pain. "Aragorn, what has happened here?" The tones and vowels of this speech were cultured and smooth, like silk against my ragged nerves. I started to feel calm again. Someone who sounded like that wouldn't hurt me more, would they?

"A FIGHT! That's what happened!" I winced at the intrusion of this harsh, rough new voice when it cut across my abused consciousness. "The orcs seem to have found new PREY!"

"Not so loud, Gimli," the first voice, Aragorn's maybe, softly intoned, his hands still gently examining my head.

Another groan escaped my lips but this time my eyes opened, adjusting to the sunlight that filtered through the sparse trees. I focused first on the owner of the gentle hands who continued their work, cleaning and applying salve to my wound. Dark hair fell in soft stringy waves to his jaw; his angular, tanned face was accentuated by scruffy stubble. Pale blue eyes focused on his task. I couldn't tell what he was wearing; his face loomed large in my vision.

My eyes flickered upwards to meet the sharper blue gaze of, well; I couldn't be sure what to call him at first, other than gorgeous. Long blonde hair lightly fell about his broad shoulders yet was pulled back from his squared, chiseled, fair skinned face. His lips pursed into a firm line of concern as he watched the man he called Aragorn work, his beautiful blue eyes moving between us until he saw that I was awake, and then his eyes held mine steadily. I sucked in a breath and distinctly remember thinking that I must look like a mess lying here in the grass and dirt. My jeans and hiking boots were bloody and dirty from the fight and my fall, my t-shirt was torn along the right shoulder seam, and my long brown hair had come out of its pony tail, probably made that way by the man who worked to stem the flow of blood from my head.

I tore my eyes away from his gaze with effort, but then I noticed his ears, and my mouth dropped open. His ears were pointed. Like Mr. Spock from Star Trek.

I made a strangled sound in my throat and tried to sit up. Firm hands grasped my shoulders and urged me to lay back. "Peace, Lady, peace! Legolas, help me hold her." The pointy eared Adonis bent to help restrain me but I flailed my right arm out, knocking Aragorn back into his rump with a strength which clearly surprised him.

I finally found my voice.

"No! No, please. It's alright. I'm alright. Let me up. I just need to walk it off." I heard Faith's voice in my head, cajoling me as she had in the past during training sessions. 'Walk if off, Slayer! Walk it off! It won't hurt so much when you move so get off your butt and walk it off!'

Staggering to my feet I swayed like a drunk. I saw my Adonis, Legolas he was called, hold out his arms towards me, probably to catch me if I fell. Pride surged through me, a definite desire to not look weak in front of these strangers. I breathed deeply, willing the dizziness and nausea to go away, and leaned on a nearby tree for support.

Faith's voice called in my mind, 'You're not walking!' I held a hand to my head while the other gripped the tree and I began to walk, in a circle, around the support.

"Well! She's got spunk. I'll give her that!" The harsh voice, Aragorn had called him Gimli spoke up and I felt a hand pat me on my elbow.

My elbow?

I stopped walking and looked down.

Pushing my hair out of the way my eyes fell on a very hairy, yet very short, stout man, the source of that booming, jovial voice. He stood no taller than my chest but what he lacked in height he made up for in beard. Long, intricately braided and a tawny brown color, it fell to his waist. His eyes twinkled up at me from amidst a weathered and smiling face. The helm he wore glinted in the sunlight. His clothing and armor was distinctly medieval looking, but then so were the clothes the other two wore, I realized.

"Wow," I said dumbly, "You're short."

He broke out into a loud belly laugh which caused the pain in my head to resurface, but I fought to ignore it. "And you're TALL!" he observed.

That earned him a smile.

"Ah! She'll be alright," Gimli said sagely to the other two, as if he were the healer of the bunch. I looked over at them. Aragorn had risen from his unexpected seat and now looked at me with an appraising gaze. Legolas, still gorgeous, was staring at me as well and though his eyes held concern, his stance held wariness, which put me off for some reason.

What had this pointy eared guy have to be wary of me for? He's not the one sporting a headache!

I sighed and carefully rotated my head one way and then another, cracking my neck. "Yeah. I'll be alright. Just gimme a minute." Slayers heal quickly; I just needed to get the blood pumping. It didn't really occur to me until later to question just how quickly I was healing. My dizziness was receding rapidly and I was soon feeling fine again.

"While you recover you could tell us what happened here," said Aragorn, his appraising gaze still on me, his hands resting lightly on the hilt of his sword.

"Yes, who killed that orc?" Legolas pointed at the corpse of my one and only kill so far on this little trip.

"An Orc. Is that what you call those demons?" I asked. I had never heard of such creatures before.

Aragorn nodded, "Yes, though that one specifically is call an Uruk-hai.

I tried to nod but it hurt and my neck was stiff. "We were attacked when we first arrived here," I explained. "I killed that one."

My voice sounded flat in my ears but to be truthful I was very proud of myself. It was the first time I had beheaded a demon. Too bad Buffy and Faith weren't here to see it. Or Willow for that matter.

Oh crap! WILLOW!

Panic flew across my face and I never registered the varying looks of shock and disbelief that crossed the faces of the three men who surrounded me. I moved away from the tree, which I immediately regretted as dizziness washed over me again and I lost my balance, stumbling towards Aragorn. He moved forward to catch me; strong hands gripped my upper arms to keep me from falling.

"WILLOW! My friend, Willow was taken by those demons! I have to go find her. She's my only way home!" My voice broke on the word 'home' revealing to these strangers my heightened level of panic.

"Peace, Lady! Please!" Aragorn's soft, commanding voice interrupted my tirade. "If the orcs took your friend we will help you find her, and them." I managed another smile in my relief.

"Did you see two hobbits with them?" Gimli cut in, running over to us and shoving his way between Aragorn and I.

Hobbits?

I stumbled again but put my hand on the top of Gimli's helm to steady myself. "I saw they had two small boy's captive…"

"That's THEM!" Gimli bellowed, cutting me off and gesturing wildly.

I looked down at the short, stout man, suddenly very irate. "Just what ARE you, anyway?" Yes it was a rude question, and I didn't try to hide that with the tone of my voice, but at the time I felt it was a highly necessary thing to know.

Gimli looked taken back at my boldness, his expressive face showed his shock, but he quickly recovered. "I, Lady, am a Dwarf!" His voice was tinged with pride.

"Oh," was the only response I could come up with, my irritation suddenly draining away as I realized that I had no idea what a Dwarf was, aside from the Snow White story. Gimli didn't look anything like Doc, Happy, Grumpy, Dopey or any of the others, though.

I looked over at my pointy eared Adonis, Legolas. He had picked up my short sword and was in the process of cleaning the demon…um…orc blood off of it. His intense blue gaze met mine and I stumbled over my next words as I felt my cheeks get hot under his scrutiny.

"A-and you?"

He inclined his head and gave a regal half-bow to me, and then he spoke. "I am an Elf, Lady."

"And I am a man, how is it that you do not know this?" Aragorn stepped up to Gimli and me, obviously irritated at my ignorance.

"Um…well…I'm not from around here," I explained. Wow. That was lame and totally cliché, but it was the best I could come up with. Aragorn looked at me skeptically.

"Are you from the East?" he quizzed, crossing his arms.

"It matters not where she's from!" Gimli boomed. "What matters is that the same orcs who took Merry and Pipin now also have her friend!"

"And she killed one of the Uruk-hai single handedly," Legolas mused softly, holding up my sword to the light, running his nimble fingers along the flat of the blade.

"Alright," Aragorn said. "Our time is short and we have tarried here too long as it is." He caught my gaze with his own. "What is your name?"

I squared my shoulders and met his gaze as if by giving my name I was answering the call of some unspoken challenge. "Kestrel."

"Lady Kestrel, you will join us in our search for the Uruk-hai. We travel light and by foot. We cannot spare you any comfort along the way," Aragon's instructions were clipped and factual, as if he thought I would back down from the task once I knew what was expected of me.

"Sounds like a party! What are we waiting for?" I said to him, lifting an eyebrow. Something passed through his eyes at my response. I couldn't be sure, but it might have been respect.

"My Lady's sword," Legolas' voice came from behind me. I turned from Aragorn to see Legolas down on one knee, holding up the sword to me. My brows furrowed and I quirked my head to the side looking down at the Elf.

"What are you doing?" I asked, my voice coming out in amused bewilderment.

"Offering you your sword," was his solemn answer.

"Are you proposing too or something?" I quipped back, my gaze dropping to his bent knee, my eyes shining. Yeah…I wish.

"An Uruk-hai, one of the fiercest enemies of the people of Middle Earth, lay dead by your hand. You are truly a warrior worthy of respect," he explained smoothly.

"Then respect me while standing, or better yet while we run," I took the sword from him, and helped him to his feet with a hand under his elbow.

I smiled. "I appreciate the thought, though." He smiled back and my knees felt weak.

"Enough! Let's go!" Gimli grumbled.

"Indeed," Aragorn took off at an urgent jog down the grassy slope which leads out of the sparse wood and onto a large, flat plain. I sheathed my sword in the scabbard which dangled from my belted jeans, briefly bent to pick up the small backpack I had thought to bring with me and jogged after him. Legolas and Gimli were hot on my heels.


	2. The Scythe

Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings and the characters within do not belong to me. Buffy the Vampire Slayer and the characters within do not belong to me. Kestrel, does belong to me. This is a work of fiction for enjoyment and not profit. 

Chapter 2 – The Scythe

I will admit that running isn't one of my most favorite things to do. While I had become better at the exercise during my six months with the Slayers, I still hated to do it for long periods of time. Unfortunately that was ALL we were doing. For a day and a night we ran. I became winded quickly but kept going. I'd be damned if I was be seen as a hindrance to their progress.

I took comfort in the fact that Gimli didn't seem to be any more suited to running than I was. He struggled along and I kept pace with him for no other reason than he was keeping me good company. We talked to each other as the four of us ran. He brought me up to speed on their travels so far and how they came to be sprinting across the vast waste of land we found ourselves in. Oftentimes our statements were short and cut at odd intervals as we took gasps of chill air.

I had taken my blue hooded sweatshirt out of the backpack and put it on during the night. It was a nice trick taking it out of the pack and shrugging it on while running but Gimli helped me by carrying the pack and then helping me up when I stumbled and fell in my haste to get the sweatshirt over my head while running blinded by thick cotton.

He was kind enough to keep that little folly from the other two, knowing that it would embarrass me.

I admit that aside from the interesting conversation, keeping pace with Gimli gave me an excuse to take it slower than I could have.

"We dwarfs are natural sprinters!" He explained to me as I huffed and puffed next to him. "We are wasted on distances…"

Right.

We ran into a shallow gorge and Aragorn suddenly stooped and picked up an object from the trampled earth.

"Not idly do the leaves of Lorien fall," he said in his usual soft voice.

"They may yet be alive," Legolas offered in hope.

"Less then a day ahead of us. Come!" Aragorn said as he took off running again. How the heck does he know that?

"Come, Gimli! Kestrel! We are gaining on them!" Legolas shouted back to us. We had just come over the rise when Gimli stumbled and rolled down the shallow hill. It was my turn to help him up but he bounced back quickly and we kept running

"I am wasted on cross-country!" he grumbled loudly so that now Legolas and Aragorn could hear. "We dwarves are natural sprinters! Very dangerous over short distances! Just ask Kestrel!"

"Yes," I added, dryly between pants of air. "He's been telling me all about it…for the past day!"

We crested a hill and Aragorn stopped running suddenly. Gimli and I caught up to him in time to hear him say, "Rohan. Home of the horse-lords. There is something strange at work here. Some evil gives speed to these creatures, sets its will against us."

Legolas had run ahead of us and stood atop the next rise, "Legolas, what do you Elf eyes see?" Aragorn shouted to him.

Legolas squinted out into the land and shouted back, "The Uruks turn northeast. They're taking the hobbits to Isengard!"

I ran to catch up with Legolas and stopped next to him, panting for breath. "Where's that?" I asked. I tried to squint into the far distance as well but couldn't see anything besides blue sky, waving long grasses and distant mountains.

"Home of an evil wizard named Saruman, he is in league with our enemy Sauron," Legolas quickly said.

Well…that explains everything…

We set off at a run again and I did my best to keep up with the Elf. "Maybe that's why they took Willow!" I shouted as we ran. "She's a powerful witch! She used her magic to fight the orcs before she was taken! She brought us here!"

I lost my breath while trying to shout and run, I lost footing and stumbled not seeing the hole in the ground until it was too late.

I fell into a different kind of darkness and heard the surprised cries of my traveling companions as the earth rushed up to meet me.

It wasn't far to fall but I landed badly and got the wind knocked out of me. After a frantic second when I thought my head wound had split open again, I looked around and realized that I had fallen into a hole of some sort.

"Kestrel!" Legolas' voice called from above me. "Are you alright?"

I looked up and saw that I had only fallen about six or seven feet into the earth. My trio of orc hunters gathered around the hole and looked down at me worry on their faces.

I sighed and climbed to my feet. "What is it with me and hurting myself on this trip?" I asked, exasperated, to no one in particular.

"We'll be right down! Don't move!" Aragorn called, he turned and started to climb down into the hole with me.

"NO no! I'm not hurt, just bruised up," I explained loudly. "Don't come down. I don't know if we can get back out."

My words were too late, though. Aragorn dropped easily to the ground next to me. I heard a rope slap on the oddly smooth stone floor and looked up again to see Gimli and Legolas sliding down into the hole as well.

"The rope will allow us to climb out," Aragorn explained.

"Of course," I said, dryly, "Silly me."

"It is dark," Legolas observed, his eyes squinting in an effort to cut through the darkness.

"Thank you, master of the obvious," I commented while I rummaged through my pack. The fall, and subsequent blow to my pride, had made me sarcastic. I pulled a flashlight out of my bag and clicked it on.

"And the Lord said, 'Let there be Mag-lite, and it was good!'" I quipped, trying to lighten the mood. A well timed funny comment worked at home, why not here?

My three new companions jumped back in shock as the flashlight came on. Briefly ignoring them, I swept it back and forth trying to make out the shape of the space we now occupied. At first glance it looked to be a hollow hill. Very King Arthur.

"What manner of magic is that?" Gimli demanded, half curious and half afraid of the light wand.

I look at him, confused. The dim bulb of my addled brain brightened and I realized that these people did not know what electricity was. How dumb am I? They dressed like they were straight out of the Renaissance Faire; it would follow that they would not understand technological advances.

I had better keep my MP3 player tucked safely out of sight, then.

"It's a flashlight," I explained, and held it out for Gimli to take. "Here, it won't bite you."

The Dwarf hesitated but grasped the metal barrel of the flashlight firmly, swinging the beam in several different directions to get the feel of it. "It's heavy," he observed.

"Yeah, where I come from police use these both to light the darkness and as blunt weapons," I explained. Ah the many uses of a good Mag-lite.

"Police?" Aragorn asked.

"Law enforcement?" I offered lamely. His face showed understanding at that explanation.

"What is that?" Gimli cried cutting off anything else Aragorn might have asked. I whirled my head towards the spot Gimli indicated.

Highlighted by the circle of light the flashlight threw, was the Scythe, embedded partway in the curved rock of the wall, gleaming in the light. It looked sharp and powerful. It called to that something inside me which made me a Slayer. My world shrank down so that I saw nothing else but that beautiful weapon.

"It is the _Crist uin Dagnir_," Legolas intoned in wonder, stepping forward.

"The _Crist uin Dagnir?_" questioned Aragorn, "But that is just a myth. The weapon of the Dagnir does not exist."

"The myth stands in front of you," I said. My voice sounded distant to my own ears. My feet carried me forward to the weapon. "This is the Scythe, the weapon of the Slayers." My hand reached out before me, drawn to the power of the weapon as if caught in a vortex.

"Wait!" Aragorn said, running forward and gripping my wrist even as I reached for the Scythe. "We do not know what this really is. It may be some trick of Saruman's crafting."

I looked at him as though he had sprouted two heads. "Excuse me! I didn't travel through space, time and untold dimensions looking for this thing just to be put off now! This is the Scythe. It can only be wielded by a Slayer. I am a Slayer. Now let me go!"

"There is no such thing as Slayers! There never has been in all of recorded history. The Dagnir is a legend proved false long ago," Aragorn tried to explain; his eyes holding mine even as I tried to look around him at the Scythe.

"I don't know who this 'Dagnir' is, but welcome to history in the making," I snarled at him. Stepping back into a wider stance, I used the momentum to turn and twist my wrist out of his strong grip. It wasn't a feat of obvious strength on my part, I had tried to keep that on the down low so far, but more a leverage and physics move Faith had showed me. It shocked Aragorn enough that I was able to evade his grasp against his wishes.

"And if this is the _Crist uin Dagnir_ as you say it is," said Legolas calmly, moving to stand between Aragorn and me before we came to blows, "What will you do with it?"

I met his beautiful blue gaze and sighed, his presence calming me like a balm. "I don't know yet. We came here, Willow and I, to find the Scythe and bring it back to our world, but now I don't now if that's such a good idea. You guys have troubles of your own to deal with. Maybe you could use it here as well."

These thoughts had been nagging at me for the last day and night as we ran together. After all, this Scythe belonged to Middle Earth, who were we in assuming we could just up and take it where ever we chose. Who knows what damage we could do by removing the Scythe from its rightful place? Who knows what good it would do in this world if wielded properly?

"Time is short, Kestrel," Aragorn bit out, "If you intend to take this weapon with you, then do it quickly."

I looked up at the hole we had come through, noticing that the light of day was fading quickly. More time had gone by than I had thought while we were down here.

Lowering my head again, I noticed that the Mag-lite was resting on the stone floor of the hill, the beam shooting off in a haphazard angle. Gimli now hung from the handle of the Scythe, feet braced against the curved wall, pulling on it with obvious strength, grunting with his efforts, but not getting anywhere with it. The Scythe held firm in its spot, defying him.

I bent down, picked up the flashlight and handed it to Legolas. After a brief hesitation the Elf took the metal instrument and trained the beam on the Scythe as Gimli had done before. Passing a stern looking Aragorn, I walked up to Gimli.

"Hon, it's a Slayer's weapon so only a Slayer can move it from its resting place," I explained, resting a hand on the Dwarf's shoulder.

He gave one more solid tug before dropping back to the ground. Wiping sweat from his hairy brow, he stepped back and gestured that I should try, though it was obvious that he didn't believe I could do any better than he.

I smiled and winked at the Dwarf, grabbed the Scythe firmly in both hands, and lifted it easily out of the wall.

The sound of metal sliding against rock echoed through the chamber. Power surged up my arms and then back down into the Scythe. The weapon called to me and I answered.

It was about four feet in length with a metal haft. The end was pointed, wooden with a metal tip, to represent a stake. The top was a wicked, curved blade which looked deadly sharp. A grooved was cut into the back of the blade to reveal another hand hold. I just held the weapon for a moment, admiring its lines and beauty, and then stepped back from my companions. They watched me intently, all showing differing levels of expectation, awe and mistrust. I spun the Scythe in my right hand and the blade cut through the air cleanly, whistling as it went.

I grinned, looking up to my companions. Gimli looked floored and he bowed to me fully. "Lady Dagnir, you truly have come at last!"

His words unsettled me. I wasn't some fulfillment of a long forgotten legend, I was just me. Wasn't I?

"So…I've got what I came for. Maybe we should climb out and chase down those orcs again," I offered, partly because I was embarrassed from all the attention I was getting now, but mostly due to the fact that I knew my little side adventure was costing us valuable time.

"Now that you have…it," Aragorn said, "Will you leave us?" His piercing gaze held me to my spot and I was forced to think about my future plans.

"Well, I can't just leave," I began, "Not without Willow, at least. She's how I GOT here."

Aragorn didn't seem convinced so my eyes left his hard stare and found a more pleasing sight in Legolas. He stood with his arms crossed in front of him, totally closed off, head bowed towards the ground. I stopped and a fleeting thought crossed my mind. Did I really want to leave?

Geez why wouldn't I want to leave? I had a life back in my world and I couldn't just think to stay here because some gorgeous, perfect, beautiful Elf-man with the sexy voice and the amazing body happened to catch my eye. That's not a reason!

Not a reason at all…

Right.

Just because they seemed on the verge of the war to end all wars and could probably use my help and the power of the Scythe on their side wasn't an excuse to think about settling down, building a nice house on about twenty acres of land and popping out little half-Elf kids! I was being silly. Just silly!

Speaking of the gorgeous Elf-man, he was speaking and I was missing it due to my wool-gathering.

"…one step at time. Let us find the orcs who took our friends. That is the most important thing."

Aragorn only nodded. He turned on his heel and quickly shimmied up the rope and out of the hollow hill. I could tell he was pissed off, probably at me.

"I don't think he likes me," I said more to myself than anything. Gimli patted me on the arm, "Don't worry lass, he'll warm up to you. He's got a lot on his mind."

Somehow that didn't make me feel better.

We took turns climbing up the rope, hoisting Gimli up and out of the hill last as Dwarfs are not any better at rope climbing than they are at cross-country running.


	3. Of Riders and Spears

Disclaimer: Can be found in chapter to. I sum up, though. I own nothing here except Kestrel. This is just for fun, not for profit.

Thanks to my beta team of Hope and Jenn.

Thanks to all who've reviewed so far. smooches

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Chapter 3 – Of Riders and Spears

We were running again for another whole day and night.

"Keep breathing!" Gimli panted. "That's the key! Breathe!" I couldn't tell if he was advising me or himself. This running was getting old real quick. I felt on the verge of collapse.

"They've run as if the very whips of their masters were behind them," Legolas observed. Funny how he looked fresh as a daisy even after three plus days of enforced cardio, were as I probably stank to high heaven.

I had forgotten to bring deodorant to boot.

"A red sun rises," Legolas said that morning. "Blood has been spilled this night."

"Cheerful," I commented to his retreating back. "Makes me want to run some more." I was getting sarcastic again in my exhaustion. Gimli chuckled at me.

It wasn't long before we heard the sound of hoof beats. Taking shelter behind some boulders, I saw a vast column of horses carrying armed spearmen pass us.

Aragorn stood up to hail them, "Riders of Rohan, what news from the Mark?"

Legolas looked at me and said, "Put your hood up, tuck your hair."

I quickly complied, pulling my loose and knotted hair back into my hood and settling it on my head. Legolas reached out and yanked the hood farther down to hide my face. I shot him a confused look but saw that the column of riders had gracefully turned back towards us. The three men stood shoulder to shoulder in front of me, Legolas gripping my left wrist to keep me in place near to him.

The riders circled us quickly and then lowered their spears as one trapping us in a deadly circle of wood and metal. My eyes shot from rider to rider, looking for an escape, but there was none.

"What business does an Elf, two men and a Dwarf have in the Riddimark? Speak quickly!" questioned a voice from the riders.

Hey! I'm not a man! I made to move forward, but Legolas gripped my wrist tighter and that kept me silent.

"Give me your name, Horsemaster, and I shall give you mine," Gimli challenged.

The man climbed down from his horse and stood towering over the Dwarf. "I would cut off your head, Dwarf, if it stood but a little higher from the ground."

"You would die before your stroke fell!" Legolas shouted and in a blink he had an arrow drawn and aimed at the man, his grip on my wrist gone.

The horsemen tensed and drew in closer, one of their spears grazed my bottom and I yelped in surprise, a clearly feminine sound. The eyes of our challenger shot to me. "A woman," he said.

"Nice of you to notice," I drawled, pulling down my hood and letting my hair fall down my back.

Reaching behind me I swatted the spear tip away from my butt. "No prodding the goods, sweetie," I snarled. The rider had the good grace to look ashamed and he backed his spear away from me.

Aragorn reached out and lowered Legolas' bow. "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. This is Gimli son of Gloin, Legolas of the Woodland Realm and Kestrel the…Slayer. We are friends of Rohan and of Théoden your King."

Our challenger let the words sink in, his eyes not leaving me. After a long moment he blinked and removed his helm. By some unspoken command the riders raised their spears. I thought I felt a spear graze my butt again, but I ignored it.

"Théoden no longer recognizes friend from foe. Not even his own kin," the man said. "Saruman has poisoned the mind of the king and claimed lordship over these lands. My company are those loyal to Rohan. And for that, we are banished."

His eyes looked at each of us in turn before he went on, "The White Wizard is cunning. He walks here and there, they say, as an old man, hooded and cloaked. And everywhere his spies slip past our nets."

Creepy.

"We are not spies. We track a group of Uruk-hai westward across the plain. They've taken our friends captive," Aragorn went on.

The man nodded, "The Uruks are destroyed. We slaughtered them during the night."

"But there were two hobbits! Did you see two hobbits with them?" Gimli cried, hope blazing in his eyes.

"They would be small - only children to your eyes," continued Aragorn.

"And a red-headed girl! Kind small…fair skinned," my voice tapered off.

The man's eyes held sadness, "We left none alive. We piled the carcasses and burned them." He turned and pointed. On the horizon I could see a tall stack of smoke rising in the distance.

My face fell. Oh no.

"Dead?" Gimli said, his voice carrying all the disbelief and cautious grief that I was feeling.

"I am sorry," the man said and looked down, away from us. I saw Legolas put a hand on Gimli's shoulder.

Suddenly the man looked up quickly and whistled. "Hasufel! Arod!" he called.

Two horses were lead up to us, fully saddled and bridled, but rider less.

"May these horses bear you to better fortune than their former masters," he said, gravely, handing the reins to Aragorn. "Farewell."

He placed his helmet back on his head and turned, mounting his own horse. He paused, then said, "Look for your friends. But do not trust to hope, it is forsaken these lands."

There was a brief moment of silence but then the man's voice called out, "We ride north!" The column started to pull away but once again I felt something caress my butt as it went by.

Moving quickly, with more speed than I thought I could muster, I caught the shaft of the spear in my hand. The rider pulled up short so I also caught the malicious look he shot to one of his companions. This quickly turned to one of surprise as he realized that he had been caught in the act.

"What did I say about touching the goods, huh?" I asked him angrily.

"What is the problem here?" Legolas challenged, stepping up next to me and leveling an aggressive gaze at the rider.

"My apologies, good Lady, it was an accident," the rider stammered, clearly lying.

"I'm gonna pretend that I believe you," I said haughtily in return, "But don't think you're getting off that easily."

I yanked the spear forward, pivoted on my feet and drove the heel of my hand through the wooden shaft, splintering it in two. The riders all stopped and everyone looked on in shock at my show of strength.

I held up the end of the spear which was now mine, and shook it back and forth like a mother scolding her child. "Next time keep your toys to yourself."

The man we had been speaking to before rode up quickly, "What is the meaning of this? Speak!" he commanded to the rider.

"It was my fault, Lord Eomer," he said, voice fearful, but I couldn't be sure if his fear was of me or of the wrath of his Lord. I had kinda hoped it was of me.

"It's cool, Lord Eomer," I spoke up, "No offense taken, and I even got a parting gift." I held up the broken end of the spear for him to see.

A tense moment passed. I didn't know how Eomer would react to this; I may have just overstepped myself seriously here. He looked at the spear in my hand, then at me, eyes moving over my body, taking in my slight build, womanly curves and long hair, and then he looked at the rider who was a fault, and then back at me. I froze in place, holding the spear and submitting myself willingly to his appraisal. It helped that Legolas hovered protectively at my side and I knew Aragorn and Gimli were only a few paces behind me.

To my surprise, Eomer broke out in laughter. "Well it's seems Agnara has been put in his place by a WOMAN no less!" The riders laughed stiffly along with their Lord until Gimli's voice rose, outraged, above the din.

"She is not just any WOMAN!" Gimli challenged loudly, "She is the Slayer! The Dagnir of myth! She wields the Scythe!"

The laughter died almost immediately.

"You speak true?" Eomer phrased it as a question and looked to me for confirmation.

I nodded and took the Scythe from where I had fitted it onto my backpack to show him. The blade glinted in the sunlight, deadly and powerful.

"The myth is true, then," Eomer said his eyes wide in awe, "You have come." He seemed to know something that I didn't. I opened my mouth to question him but Aragorn cut me off.

"The tale is long and our time is short. Another time, Slayer," he called out, his voice grating.

I shot Aragorn a glare but motioned that I understood, we had to leave. I put the Scythe away on my pack and noticed that Legolas had moved off to somewhere behind me. With a final bow, Eomer and the riders disappeared over the northern ridge.

I held up the end of the spear as they left, calling after them, "Um…did you want this back?"

I didn't get an answer so I shrugged and threw it to the ground. The point stuck in the fertile earth, the broken shaft immediately lost amid the grass.

"Come, Kestrel! We must ride," Legolas called. I turned towards the voice and saw they had already mounted up. Gimli rode pile on with Aragorn and Legolas held his hand out to me, indicating that I should join him.

I stared at his hand dumbly for a second. I was very uneasy suddenly. I'd never had any experience with horses, but it was too late to say 'Um no thanks' now. This would be much quicker and I was tired of running.

Shoving down my anxiety I took the Elf's hand and was swung up into the saddle behind him. As the animal picked up into a trot I realized that Legolas made up for my ignorance of horses in spades.

The horse picked up speed and I fought to keep my balance behind the Elf. Instinct told me to grab hold of him for support but I didn't know if that was alright or what. My fears were put to rest when he reached back, grabbed my hand and pulled so that my arm wound around his trim waist. He smiled at me over his shoulder and I happily returned the gesture. Gripping him in the same fashion with my other arm I allowed some of my weight to rest against his back as we rode. His quiver of arrows was in the way, but I didn't mind. He gave my hand a squeeze before letting go and gripping the reins once more.

I was grateful to let the horse do all the work after all that constant running. I was sure my legs would cramp up if I didn't stretch them out eventually.

After a time I had to wonder whose idea this was to have me ride with Legolas. My mind whirled with the options as I had little else to do or think of until we reached our destination. The stack of smoke drew nearer but we still had a long ride.

Did Legolas actually want me here next to him so close? Did he request this arrangement? Or was this merely the only other option available because Aragorn didn't want me to ride with him so he chose Gimli first. And did I even care right now? The sun was high, the wind was gentle and Legolas, even after days in the wilds, smelled really good. I didn't have the words to describe it, I just wanted to sit there and inhale him. Literally…or figuratively…or both.

My fears over Willow were still fresh in my mind, though, despite my pleasant situation. My gut clenched in fear with the possibility that my friend was dead. Never mind that she was my ticket out of here, I was more concerned about her well-being than going home.

I would kill every single last orc in Middle Earth if they had harmed Willow, and that's a fact.


	4. White Wizards and Witches

Disclaimer in chapter 2 3.

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Chapter 4 – White Wizards and Witches

Even the wonderful smell coming from my riding companion couldn't block out the horrid stench which rose from the pile of burning orc bodies.

Legolas dismounted quickly and held his hands up to assist me. I swung my left leg over the horse and slid off, careful to not allow the point of the Scythe to injure our mount.

Yes I could have landed just fine.

No I didn't need Legolas' help but he didn't know that.

And so what if I "stumbled" a bit and needed him to "catch" me so I wouldn't fall. So what if this caused him to wind his arms around me and hold me briefly against his body as I struggled to regain my "balance".

I smiled up at him as I straightened, but his eyes told me that he clearly saw through my ruse. He quirked a smile back and I grinned, blushing.

Wait…I don't blush. How come this Elf-guy can make me blush?

I stepped back from him some regret and turned towards the pile of charred orc-flesh. Lovely. The riders had even marked the place with an orc's head on a pike. Its black tongue lolled out of the rubbery lips, baking in the sun.

Gimli was using his axe to dig through the pile of smoking carcasses while Aragorn searched the ground. I took in the scene as best I could, my eyes falling on the dense and creepy forest off to the far right.

The Dwarf gave a dismayed cry and pulled from the smoldering heap a belt and scabbard, obviously belonging to one of the Hobbits.

"It's one of their wee belts," he said, voice nearly breaking in shock.

Legolas placed a hand over his heart and began to murmur strange words in a beautiful, wispy lilt_," Hiro îth… ab 'wanath..."._

Aragorn lashed out with his foot, kicked a discarded helmet and let out a frustrated cry. The helmet flew in a way that reminded me briefly of a football flying towards a field goal but even I couldn't find the humor in that observation right then.

Aragorn wheeled on his feet, sinking to his knees, holding his head in his hand. This was the most obvious display of raw emotion that I had seen from him so far and it affected more than anything else had. My breathing hitched and for the first time I saw what a good person Aragorn was. Yes he was gruff with me, but that didn't mean he had no feelings at all. He truly cared for these two Hobbits. I had misjudged him.

"We failed them," Gimli said numbly, his eyes wide with disbelief.

I bowed my head, tears stinging my eyes. If the Hobbits were gone it was a pretty good bet that Willow was dead as well. My shoulders started to quake as sobs threatened and I tried to comprehend my friends death. She had been an anchor in my life after joining the Slayers at home and I felt more than cast adrift knowing that she was gone.

Then Legolas put a hand on my arm, the heat from his hand seeping through my clothes as he continued to mumble. I felt slightly better knowing that my new companions were with me, but I knew none of them could make up for the loss of Willow in my life.

"A Hobbit lay here," Aragorn's voice said, shaking me out of my melancholy. "And the other," I heard him continue.

I dashed the tears from my eyes and watched as he examined the ground beneath him on his hands and knees. "A woman next to them…here."

"Willow." I said, hand over my heart.

"They crawled, the three of them," he said. "Their hands were bound."

He crawled further in the grass fingers working in intricate patterns over the disturbed turf.

"Their bonds were cut." Aragorn scrambled across the ground, briefly holding up a much abused length of rope before dropping it and continuing to follow the path that only he could see.

"They ran over here," he said rising to his feet and running along with the tracks. "They were followed. The women pushed the hobbits before her as they fled."

"Sounds like Willow," I commented, hope rising in my voice as I quickly followed Aragorn, watching his progress carefully.

"The tracks lead away from the battle...into Fangorn Forest," he concluded, the forest yawned huge in front of where he came to a sudden stop. Too intent on looking at the ground, I nearly collided with his back when he stopped short. Swerving at the last minute I came gracelessly to a halt next to him.

"Fangorn," Gimli breathed. "What madness drove them in there?"

I sniffed loudly, hopeful again that there was a chance they were still alive. "I imagine it was better than the bloodshed out here."

"The dangers of the forest are a poor trade for the battle they ran from," Aragorn said. "We now have our path," he said and he plunged into the forest, between the huge trees.

We quickly moved to follow them, my heart lighter now despite Aragorn's dire warnings of the dangers of Fangorn. As I stepped carefully in and around the raised and gnarled tree roots I couldn't understand what could be so bad in here, besides the inevitable wild animal. What could be worse than an Uruk?

We walked for what seemed to be a long time, the forest dark around us and I stumbled more than once when the light failed me. Luckily I didn't fall flat on my face. I couldn't tell the passing of time because of the dense trees.

There were strange stains spattered the ground and foliage at odd intervals. Gimli fingered one of the dark stains and then brought the stuff to his lips. He grimaced and immediately spit it out. "Orc blood," he declared.

"These are strange tracks," Aragorn mused, looking at the ground. I tried to look as well but all I saw were leaves and dirt. I could tell that something had passed this way but I wouldn't define it as 'tracks'.

"The air is so close in here," Gimli observed suddenly. I could tell he was getting nervous. The forest was too quiet, no sounds of birds or chatter of squirrels or anything.

"Feels like a hot house," I agreed. I couldn't shake the feeling that something loomed near to us. It felt heavy on my shoulders and neck like an unseen weight.

Like we were being watched.

"This forest is old," Legolas said, voice full of pride and wonder as he took in the surroundings. "Very old. Full of memory, and anger."

I could hear the anger! An odd sound was coming from the trees. It was like the sound of wood groaning to its breaking point but it also held the low thrum that reminded me of whales sounding. "What's that noise?" I asked momentarily panicked. The sound was not a friendly one even though I had no basis for comparison.

"The trees are speaking to each other," Legolas answered eyes wide, voice an awed whisper.

Gimli, startled by the threatening noises, took a defensive posture, raising his axe to his shoulder and turning around in frantic circles. The trees groaned all the louder and I flinched.

"Gimli!" Aragorn said quietly, "Lower your axe!" He gestured and Gimli complied reluctantly. My own hands longed to feel the Scythe in them, but I contented myself with flexing my right hand around the hilt of my short sword.

Legolas said something to Aragorn in that odd language I heard him use before. To my surprise Aragorn answered, but I couldn't understand a word of it. I wondered if Gimli knew Pig Latin…

"The White Wizard approaches," Legolas replied eyes shooting to Aragorn.

The group tensed up at the mention of the White Wizard. "Do not let him speak," Aragorn instructed quietly. "He will put a spell on us."

I reached for the Scythe but stopped as a small ball of light came floating out of the trees to hover in front of my nose. The pulsed with white brilliance and hummed soothingly. I looked at it, uncertain at first. I had seen something like this before but at home.

It reminded me of one of Willow's locator spells.

As if Willow sent it out to find me.

Was Willow with the White Wizard? She might be in trouble!

I pulled the Scythe from my back and turned to face the group, brushing off the small glowing ball of light, only to be momentarily blinded by a brilliant white light shining out from atop a small rise in the forest.

I cried out in surprise. Legolas' arrow was deflected, Gimli's axe clattered to the ground, deflected as well. Aragorn's sword grew too hot in his hand and it was dropped as well. Only I retained my weapon, but I made no move to use it.

"You are tracking the footsteps of two young Hobbits," a deep voice said, coming from within the light.

"Where are they?" Aragorn asked, even as he shielded his eyes from the overwhelming brightness before us..

"They passed this way the day before yesterday. They met someone they did not expect. Does that comfort you?" the voice asked, amused.

"Who are you? Show yourself!" Aragorn commanded, and the light faded at his request.

An old, white haired, bearded man, clad all in white and carrying a white staff stood at the top of the hill, looking down at us.

"It cannot be." Aragorn breathed. "You fell." Legolas fell to his knees, one fisted hand covering his heart. Gimli bowed low to the man but I just stood there, not knowing what to do. Who was this guy?

"Through fire and water, from the lowest dungeon to the highest peak, I fought with the Balrog of Morgoth," the old man said walking down the hill towards Aragorn. "Until at last, I threw down my enemy and smote his ruin upon the mountainside."

"Darkness took me," he continued eye going blank with memory. "And I strayed out of thought and time. Stars wheeled overhead and everyday was as long as a life-age of the earth. But it was not the end. I felt life in me again."

He stopped and then his eyes refocused on Aragorn. "I've been sent back until my task is done," the old man concluded.

"Gandalf!" Aragorn said in amazement.

"Gandalf?" the old man questioned, "Yes... That's what they used to call me. Gandalf the Grey. That was my name."

He paused, finally looking at me, a twinkle in his eye. "I am Gandalf the White," he explained nodding his head towards me, "and I come back to you now at the turn of the tide."

Then a familiar voice called out, hesitantly, "Um…can I come out now too?" Gandalf looked over his shoulder and nodded before he moved to join Aragorn and the group further down the hill.

A petite red-head crested the hill looking dirty and disheveled but otherwise fine.

"WILLOW!" I shouted and ran at her. On top of the hill I caught my friend in my arms and swung her around as I hugged her tightly.

"Hey! Put me down!" Willow begged. "I'm dizzy!" Laughing, I set her on her feet.

"Are you okay?" she questioned suddenly serious. "I saw that orc-thing swing at you."

I shot her a look. "ME?" I asked, surprised. "Yeah I'm fine!"

Willow shrugged and smiled. "Well you've got blood dried in your hair. I wanted to, you know, check."

I grinned wider. "I'm alright, seriously. How are you? Those orcs didn't hurt you did they?" I asked, checking her over for injuries.

"The ropes hurt my wrists," she pouted, showing me where her wrists were abraded, "But other than that, I'm okay."

I shrugged. "That's enough for me. All orcs are D E D dead!" My grin turned wicked.

"I thought they already were," she pointed out, remembering the battle they had run from several nights before.

"Oh those are yeah," I said, "But there are apparently lots more!"

"OOoo! You could behead them like you did to that first one!" she said, excited. "That was wicked cool!"

"Thanks!" I said, proudly. "I was hoping you liked that."

"Yeah too bad I couldn't stick around," she grumbled.

I hugged her again, gently this time. "No sweat, babe. You're back in the fold now. All is well. AND I found the Scythe!"

I held it up proudly for her to see.

"NEAT!" she said loudly her fingers briefly running over the flat of the large blade. "Oh but…I'm not sure we want to go home with that, though. Gandalf and I have been talking and…funny…it turns out that Middle Earth has a Slayer myth too."

I put my arm around her and we walked down the hill to rejoin our group. They were shooting curious looks at Willow anyway so I thought it was time to introduce them to her. "Yeah…I figured as much. It seems like they're up to their eyeballs in crap. We should help out, you think? You know before we go home."

I eyed Willow, checking for a reaction. She smiled. "I was hoping you'd say that!"

"Excellent!"

We walked up to the others and I gave a sweeping bow. "Guys! This is my friend Willow!" I started the introductions. "Willow, this is Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Gimli, son of Gloin (he's a Dwarf), and Legolas of the Woodland Realm (he's an Elf)!

She nodded and smiled at each of them then turned to whisper to me, "He's a hotty! A serious hotty. A Hotty McHot Hot!"

"Hey! I thought you didn't swing that way!" I whispered back. "Besides I saw him first."

"Doesn't mean I can't look," she said primly.

"It is good to finally meet you, Willow," Legolas said, stepping forward with a glint of humor in his eye. Could he have heard us? "Kestrel was very upset when she discovered you were taken. It gladdens me to see that you are unharmed."

Willow couldn't help but blush at Legolas' words, lesbian or not.

"Now that we are all together we can discuss what to do next," Aragorn said, "Gandalf has made known his desire for our next step, but I would hear of your plans now that you are reunited." His hands rested on the hilt of his sword, waiting for us to answer.

Willow and I looked at each other and she gestured that I should speak. Stepping forward I said, "We talked about it and have decided that we'd like to stay here and aide you in your quest to overcome the evil which plagues Middle Earth!" I paused and then added, "That is…if you'll have us."

"OF COURSE WE'LL HAVE YOU!" Gimli exclaimed, stepping up between Willow and I and grabbing each of our elbows. "The MORE the MERRIER!"

I looked at Aragorn, for his opinion of this plan. I felt, for some reason, like I desperately needed him to approve of me and our presence here. He held my gaze for a long moment, searching my eyes. I relaxed my body and my mind, allowing him to see everything without reservation. I let my trust in him and my desire to help come to the forefront of my thoughts as we looked at one another.

After several moments he nodded and said, "It would be an honor to have the Dagnir and her companion fighting with us against the enemy."

I bowed my head in respect and said, "Thank you, Aragorn. You won't regret this."

"I know," he said, before turning and walking back out of the wood.

"See!" Gimli said, clapping me on the back, "He's warming up to you!"

I smiled as we followed him out of the forest.


	5. Cleansing Edoras

Chapter 5 – Cleansing Edoras

Point of fact, Shadowfax is a DAMN gorgeous horse. When Gandalf, clad in a gray robe to cover the dazzling white of his clothes, whistled for him I was amazed at the lines of the animal. He indicated that Willow should ride with him and I was almost jealous of her for that.

But then Legolas nudged me and I was swung up into the saddle behind him again. Jealousy forgotten.

As we rode towards Edoras, the capital city of Rohan, Willow winked at me and wiggled her eyebrows. I rolled my eyes at her teasing and tried to focus on anything BUT her. With my arms wrapped tightly around the Elf that wasn't too hard, I have to admit. He was even kind enough to remove his quiver of arrows. So I'd be more comfortable, he explained. I had nodded and smiled, eyes narrowing in mirthful suspicion, but Legolas feigned innocence, albeit poorly, and secured his quiver to the saddlebag. He was right; I was more comfortable now that I could share the saddle with him easier. It was also nice that I could press myself fully to his back, bouncing with the motion of the horse, hair blowing out behind us.

His hair blew into my face a few times, but I'd make light of pretending to spit it out of my mouth, and then I'd move it out of the way. Legolas would smile at my joke and let me move his hair wherever so I was comfortable.

Okay so I did this more than strictly necessary as it gave me the excuse to touch his hair some more. I'm a red blooded woman with the hots for a man…Elf…yeah. Sue me.

I even let my nails scrape the skin on the nape of his neck once when I was feeling particularly wicked. I know it wasn't my imagination when he shivered at the touch. I smiled to myself. Maybe this whole 'not going home right away' thing wasn't so bad after all.

As Edoras loomed large in the distance, Gandalf brought our progress to a halt. "Edoras and the Golden Hall of Meduseld," Gandalf explained. "There dwells Théoden, King of Rohan, whose mind is overthrown. Saruman's hold over King Théoden is now very strong. Be careful what you say. Do not look for welcome here."

"Yeah so Kestrel just shouldn't talk," Willow quipped from behind Gandalf. I shot her a mock glare as the horses started forward again and we rode through the gates of the city.

"You'll find more cheer in graveyard," Gimli observed as our horses walked up the hill of the town and to Meduseld. Everywhere people clad in drab colors stopped what they were doing to watch us as we progressed through the streets. Their faces all haggard, their eyes empty and some haunted. It was a sad sight and I felt my heart constrict at the sight.

"As long as none of them try to touch my ass, we'll be fine," I said with deceptive lightness.

Willow cocked a brow at me but I shook my head. "I'll tell you later, babe." She nodded, willing to wait.

I looked and saw a blond woman, beautifully dressed in a white gown and gold belt, standing before the Golden Hall. She looked sad. Like a bird trapped in a cage and mourning its freedom to fly. I looked away for a brief instant, long enough to realize that Aragorn had seen her as well, but when I looked back, she was gone.

To quote Alice in Wonderland, 'Curiouser and curiouser.'

We dismounted but I refrained from my "stumbling" act this time. I didn't want to push my luck, but I did mumble my thanks to Legolas for once again assisting my dismount.

"A pleasure, Lady Kestrel," he replied with a small bow.

Yeah, I could get used to being called 'Lady.'

We filed up the large steps to the door of the Golden Hall.

The doors opened almost immediately and we were met by guards. One of them stepped forward, looking us all over carefully before speaking, "You cannot go before Theoden-King so armed, Gandalf Greyhame, by order of Grima Wormtongue."

I raised an eyebrow. The way the man had spoken the name Wormtongue it seemed almost grudging. The group began to give up their arms and hand them over to the waiting guards, albeit with some reluctance.

I had given my short sword to Willow (who was in the process of relinquishing that a well) so I unhooked the Scythe and handed it over silently, letting the weapon speak for itself. I didn't let go right away and the guard raised his eyes to mine, questioning.

"Try not to scuff it up," I said brightly with a wink. The guard nodded and I was graced with the ghost of a smile.

Gandalf started forward but was halted again. "Your staff?" the guard said.

"Oh. You would not part an old man from his walking stick?" Gandalf's blue eyes twinkled like a harmless, doddering old man. Damn he was good.

The guard hesitated but finally acquiesced and we entered the cavernous Golden Hall behind him.

It smelled musty and old inside, like the windows hadn't been open in years. The stench of rotting meat and despair mixed with hopelessness assailed me and I had the sudden urge to blow it out of my nose.

"The courtesy of your hall is somewhat lessened of late, Théoden King," Gandalf called out as we moved through the room. The wizard leaned, or pretended to lean, on Legolas for support and he walked with deceptive slowness.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw men, dressed sloppily in dark leathers, ghosting our approach, the glint of malice in their eyes. This could get ugly very fast.

"And why…should I welcome…you, Gandalf…Stormcrow?" a raspy and weak voice questioned from the throne on a raised dais at the far end of the hall. That's Theoden? No way. That is a shell of a man who I watched turn his pitiful gray head towards a pasty faced little weasel of a man crouched next to the throne, as if for some word of approval, which he got.

"A just question, my liege,"the greasy voice of Grima Wormtongue slid, slick and clammy, over my ears making me inwardly cringe. He nodded to the King and rose, advancing on Gandalf. "Late is the hour in which this conjurer chooses to appear. _Lathspell_ spell I name him. Ill news is an ill guest."

"Be silent!" Gandalf ordered all traces of the doddering old man gone. "Keep your forked tongue behind you teeth. I have not passed through fire and death to bandy crooked words with a witless worm!"

Gandalf held up his staff and a look of pure panic shot across Grima's once confident and smarmy features.

"His staff!" the slimy man shouted. "I told you to take the wizard's staff!" Grima backed away and off towards Aragorn and Gimli.

I didn't have a lot of chance to see what happened next because I was grabbed from behind by a pair of strong arms. Rank breath oozed into my face as a voice purred in my ear, "They've brought us a tasty little lady…"

Okay, yuck.

Do I have 'Fondle Me' written across my forehead or something?

I drove my left elbow savagely backwards into my captor's ribcage. I heard something crack as the arms which had me pinned released. The smelly man doubled over in pain and I turned, bringing my two fits down onto the center of his bowed back, which sent him sprawling onto the floor. I kicked him in the ribs again for good measure before bending down so he would be sure to hear me.

"There isn't anything on me that YOU will ever taste."

Just then blinding white light cut through my vision as the full glory of Gandalf the White shone onto the writhing form of King Theoden.

"I will draw you, Saruman, as poison is drawn from a wound," Gandalf said with purpose.

"If I go, Theoden dies!" an evil voice came from Theoden's throat as the haggard face twisted into a mask of hate.

"You did not kill me, you will not kill him!" Gandalf cried gesturing again with his staff.

"Rohan is MINE!" rasped the voice from Theoden's throat.

"BE GONE!" Gandalf shouted as he lunged for the King his staff, throwing Theoden back into his throne.

Then there was silence.

The woman I saw outside the hall ran forward, breaking from Aragorn's grasp, to catch the King as he leaned and started to fall from his chair.

She held Theoden up and as I watched the age and years literally melted away from the man. Now THIS was the King. No broken shell there.

"I know your face," Theoden said, his voice stronger now. "Eowyn."

I smiled at the scene but then noticed Legolas at my side. "He did not hurt you, did he?" the Elf questioned quickly, indicating my would-be-abductor.

I shook my head and smiled. "Well he tried to win me over but I was too sweet for him," I quipped.

Legolas obviously heard my comment to the fallen man because he got the joke and chuckled.

"Oh you think that's funny?" I jested, mirth in my eyes. "I'll have you know that I am a sweet, delicate little flower of a woman. And the sooner these men figure out that this flower can kick their ass the happier we all will be." I grinned, enjoying our easy companionship.

Legolas stopped laughing, his face suddenly serious, and eyes intense. "My fair Lady Kestrel may the light of Valinor leave me if I were to ever underestimate you in such a way."

My brows furrowed at the odd statement and his sudden change in mood but before I could question he picked up my right hand, placed a chaste and reverent kiss upon the back of my fingers and then hurried away towards the door.

I stood there in shock, watching his retreating back dumbly, as my mind worked through what had happened.

Wait, what had just happened?

Willow appeared beside me and my eyes were large as saucers when I turned to look at her. There was a commotion outside as Théoden kicked Grima out of Rohan, but neither she nor I moved to watch. Let the King exorcize his personal demons in peace.

"What was that?" I asked in a soft voice.

"The hotty Elf likes you," Willow observed sagely.

"You're insane!" I said, struggling to cover the tremor in my voice. My heart was racing, and he had just kissed the back of my fingers. I was never washing those fingers again!

"Am I?" she asked. "You don't see the way he looks at you when he thinks you won't notice."

"But, I don't get it," I said, honestly confused and getting upset. "Why me?"

"Why not you?" she answered, sounding indignant. "You're the Dagnir! The Slayer of Middle Earth!"

"Yeah but that doesn't mean here what it does at home!" I pointed out.

"No, it doesn't," Willow replied. "Here, it means more."

I could only stare at her. We both jumped as the doors to the hall were thrown open and Theoden came storming in demanding to see his son, Theodred.

"Uh oh, his son's dead," Willow said quickly. "We'd better go see if we can help with anything."

I didn't question how she knew that, sometimes she could just tell things about people. Still…it was always creepy.


End file.
